


Downtime: Basketballs and Bustling nights

by toasty_22343



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, come in here come get yall fluff, dick get your fucking head in the game, father/son bonding, takes place somewhere after season 1 episode 8, the episode is called downtime by the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 01:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toasty_22343/pseuds/toasty_22343
Summary: A game under the stars begins a change of pace.





	Downtime: Basketballs and Bustling nights

**Author's Note:**

> i have barely read anything about these characters but i hope this is decent. please bare with me lmao. 
> 
> this takes place in Young Justice, season 1, episode 8, somewhere after Dick stops his workout and just straight up punches a fucking wall.

“…If you think you can handle it.”

Dick’s mind had almost completely juddered to a complete halt as soon as Bruce threw the basketball at him. Glancing up, he noticed that the previously looming figure of black had instead chosen to don a simple vest and a pair of baggy, worn jogging bottoms. 

“Yes!” He didn’t even know if Bruce had asked a question; the mountainous shadow had broken free of its shackles of trauma and responsibility. 

Dick tossed his already falling-off jacket to Mr. Alfred with a grin, who responded with a wink and a knowing smile. The ball bounced between his feet, ready to soar at a moment’s notice. This wasn’t time to stop crime. It was a time to have a well deserved play, not to mention- a rest. Well, that is, a rest if you can call strenuous basketball against two crime-fighters a rest.

Immediately, Dick put his muscles to the test, ignoring the screams they shot into his brain from his workout two minutes ago. He tried weaving the ball around Bruce, the thumps on the ground and shuffles of feet echoing throughout the empty pitch. What was it- 4am? Who knows? It doesn’t matter for someone who dresses up as a bat and goes around punching people at said time.

As soon as he tried that successfully, however, Bruce grappled the ball with aid of his overwhelming stature.

“C’mon Dad, not cool!” Dick protested, trying frantically to jump up and scrabble for the ball which the taller man was holding juuust out of his reach. Dick started to laugh. 

“Let GO!! OH MY GOD! pfft- Let GOOOOooooOOOOO!!!”

Wait. Dick rolled his eyes to peer into Bruce's eyes...A sight to behold- a smile- flashed across Bruce’s face. Once in a blue moon, but made Dick giggle even harder until about five minutes later, he was bent over from laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe.

After what Bruce estimated to be around 10 minutes, he decided to end the game, without a single point won on either side.

“Water?” He handed Dick an ice-cold bottle, reminding himself to thank Alfred later.

“Yeah…. Ah, man… Thanks so much!” Dick gasped through heaving breaths of tiredness and latent hysterics.

The night was cool. The stars were covered by a blanket of city-fog as Gotham strode, unwavering, through time. Yet, they shone bright enough to illuminate Dick’s gasps for air, giving his breath the spotlight to dance around in front of his mouth, rising, rising, until it disappeared. Didn’t Dick mention something about mimicking nature in his performances? 

He spoke so fast usually that Bruce could not tell what he was blabbering on about unless the universal translator himself, Alfred, was present and could decipher the ‘big moods’ from the ‘oh worms’. Nevertheless, it was never the plugging of crime alongside Dick that made him happy to be his father. It was the quiet moments like this: a rest from the action, some peace and quiet when it seemed like the world was asleep and the universe held its breath. Always the night. Always the night that drew them together and held them there hard and fast.

“Dad…?”

“Yes, Dick?”

“Thank you. I’m serious. Thank you… For, you know… Everything.”

Ah. Perhaps those smiles were starting to be more common than Dick thought.

Or, maybe this time, it was more of a grin.


End file.
